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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28458330">i will hold on tight until the afterglow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicole_writes/pseuds/nicole_writes'>nicole_writes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drabble Collection, During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fluff, Fluffcember, Fluffcember 2020, Implied Sexual Content, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sylvain Jose Gautier Being A Sap</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:29:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,207</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28458330</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicole_writes/pseuds/nicole_writes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A relationship, in snatches. / for fluffcember 2020</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i will hold on tight until the afterglow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/anditiucs13/gifts">anditiucs13</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>happy birthday andi!!! this was a little something I've been cooking up since Fluffcember started because I am, after all, entirely too entrenched in Sylvgrid not to write at least *something* for them. since andi likes fluff, i figured what better gift would there be ;)</p>
<p>thanks to rachelle for keeping this between us, even as i shared my daily fluffcembers for all the other ships and denied that i would be writing any sylvgrid. it was fun to scheme :D</p>
<p>these snips are not in order. some are pre-ts, some are during and some are post-ts. This collection is also on my <a href="https://twitter.com/nicolewrites37">Twitter</a>.</p>
<p>here's to the end of 2020, my year of sylvgrid</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>i. sharing a drink</em>
</p>
<p>Ingrid sticks to the edges of the ballroom. She cradles her cup close to her chest and watches the soldiers and citizens of Derdriu dance and spin around the ballroom, laughing raucously and celebrating their army’s victory. </p>
<p>She takes a small sip of her wine and smiles into her cup. She looks down at her feet and then someone plucks the cup out of her hand and her head snaps back up, looking for the drink thief. Her mouth opens in outrage and she watches as Sylvain takes a sip from her drink. </p>
<p>“Hey!”</p>
<p>He grins at her. “Hi.”</p>
<p>She looks pointedly at the wine. “That was mine, Sylvain.”</p>
<p>He winks and hands it back to her. “Just wanted to steal a sip. Make sure that you had the good stuff.”</p>
<p>She puts a hand on her hip. “Oh?”</p>
<p>Sylvain hums in agreement. “Definitely.” He steps closer to her and Ingrid’s heart flutters. It’s been doing that lately when Sylvain’s around. She’s been trying to ignore it but it seems like he’s been coming around more often too. </p>
<p>Ingrid sips from the cup. “Dorothea made sure I got the good stuff, Sylvain,” she assures. </p>
<p>He smiles at her and Ingrid’s cheeks warm. She’s not entirely sure she’ll be able to play it off as alcohol-induced. With the way that Sylvain’s eyes are glimmering in the light of the ballroom, she’s not sure that she wants to.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>ii. reassurances</em>
</p>
<p>“Ingrid. You’re going to be fine,” Sylvain says. He’s sitting backwards on her chair at her desk, facing her. </p>
<p>Ingrid covers her face with her hands and groans. “I am not! Sylvain, I’m going to be the furthest thing from fine! Why couldn’t the Professor have chosen literally anyone else? I think Annette even volunteered.”</p>
<p>Sylvain laughs and she slowly lifts her face up, eyeing him. He gives her his classic lop-sided grin. “But she chose you, didn’t she? Look, Ingrid, you will be great. I promise.”</p>
<p>She sighs. “What if I’m not? What if I go out there and I lose?”</p>
<p>Sylvain stands up suddenly and quickly sweeps the chair back under her desk. He crosses her room and holds out his hand to her. She blinks and slowly places her hand in his. He tugs her up to her feet and pulls her in close. </p>
<p>Ingrid’s breath hitches. “What are you doing?” </p>
<p>“Practicing,” he says simply. “If you’re nervous, we’ll just practice.”</p>
<p>Ingrid frowns. “But, this is different.”</p>
<p>Sylvain shrugs and adjusts their hands, setting up into a more classical ballroom position. “It’s still practice.” </p>
<p>It is different from the dance she’ll be performing at the White Heron Cup, but it’s still dancing. Sylvain has always been better at this than her so she reasons that the practice won’t hurt anyone. The way that her heart flutters when their toes bump or when he tightens his grip on her hands has nothing to do with it.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> iii. hand-holding </em>
</p>
<p>Ingrid doesn’t even notice that she does it. It happens so slowly and so simply that it feels completely natural. In fact, she probably wouldn’t have noticed it if Sylvain hadn’t adjusted where their hands are sitting on his thigh. Ingrid tenses, her hand gripping tightly and then relaxing so quickly that she almost drops his hand. </p>
<p>Sylvain turns his head to look at her, raising an eyebrow. “You okay?” he mouths to her. </p>
<p>Ingrid’s heart skips a beat and her cheeks flush. Sylvain’s thumb skims the back of her hand like he’s trying to comfort her. Somehow, it settles her nerves and she doesn’t immediately pull her hand away. She relaxes a bit more into his touch, returning his grip and focusing on the warmth of Sylvain’s palm against hers. </p>
<p>A tiny smile curls up on his lips when he feels her reciprocate the grip and Ingrid looks away, feeling the heat in her cheeks as he keeps watching her. She wishes he would go back to paying attention to the performance that Dorothea and the others are putting on, but his attention seems fixed on her now. It makes her flustered, but it makes her stomach stir with something else as well.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>iv. first kiss</em>
</p>
<p>“So who was your first kiss, Ingrid?” Annette asks eagerly. She clasps her hands under her chin and stares at Ingrid with her big blue eyes. </p>
<p>Ingrid bites her lip and looks to the side. “It’s embarrassing,” she mumbles. </p>
<p>Mercedes giggles. “Aw, come on, Ingrid. I”m sure it’s not nearly as bad as you think it was.”</p>
<p>Ingrid covers her face. “I was seven!” she complains. “I was seven and I wasn’t expecting it and I still don’t think it should count.”</p>
<p>Annette reaches out and pulls Ingrid’s hands away from her face. “Just tell us! We promise not to laugh.”</p>
<p>Ingrid lets Annette hold her hand down and frowns. “Promise?”</p>
<p>Mercedes nods. “We promise.”</p>
<p>“It was Sylvain,” Ingrid confesses. Annette’s eyes widen and she starts to grin. Ingrid pulls her hands away and covers her face again. “I don’t even remember what I had said, but it was something about being nervous about Glenn and Sylvain just said he could make me less nervous about it and he kissed me. He was nine!” </p>
<p>Ingrid hears both Mercedes and Annette giggle. </p>
<p>“I think it’s cute,” Mercedes assures. </p>
<p>Ingrid huffs and doesn’t uncover her face. “It’s embarrassing.”</p>
<p>“If it’s that bad, why don’t you go ask him for a do-over?” Annette teases. </p>
<p>Ingrid’s head snaps up and she stares at her friend in horror. “What?”</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>v. reunited</em>
</p>
<p>“Sylvain!” </p>
<p>His head snaps up and he spots her pegasus descending from the sky. A wide grin splits on his face uncontrollably and he nearly topples out of his saddle in his attempt to dismount as quickly as possible. He rights himself right as her mount touches down and he watches her dismount with much more grace than he had. </p>
<p>She flies into his arms almost instantly and Sylvain buries his face in his shoulder, pulling her as tightly against himself as he can, breathing in the scent of horse and pine and <em> Ingrid</em>. Her arms wind around his neck and she hugs him back tightly. She starts to pull back and Sylvain reluctantly loosens his grip on her until she breaks out of the hug. She is smiling widely at him and his heart thuds in his chest and he smiles back. </p>
<p>“Hey guys!” she greets. </p>
<p>Sylvain blinks and belatedly realizes that Felix is standing only a few feet away and has watched the entire encounter between Sylvain and Ingrid. Sylvain stiffens, his hands snapping back to his side and he steps back from Ingrid a bit further. </p>
<p>“Ingrid,” Felix greets curtly. Felix’s gaze lingers for a second and it takes Sylvain another moment to notice that Ingrid’s long hair is gone. </p>
<p>“Your hair,” he blurts out, immediately shoving his foot into his mouth.</p>
<p>Ingrid shrugs and touches the ends of her hair. “Made it easier to fit under the helmet,” she explains. </p>
<p>Sylvain nods hurriedly. “It looks good on you.”</p>
<p>Her smile changes to something a bit shyer and more curious. “You think?”</p>
<p>He nods eagerly and ignores the look that Felix shoots him. “Definitely.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>vi. sunset/sunrise</em>
</p>
<p>Sylvain doesn’t often rise early enough to see the sunset, but the day after they return from beating away Ingrid’s awful suitor, he rises with the sun. He hadn’t slept well. The whole encounter had left a bitter taste in his mouth and he can only imagine how Ingrid, wonderful and stubborn and independent Ingrid, is feeling about the whole situation. </p>
<p>For that reason, it’s almost still dark when he makes his way to the stables. He swings by the dining hall on a hunch and picks up a few breakfast pastries. Sure enough, he finds Ingrid in the stables and it looks like she hasn’t slept at all. </p>
<p>“Ingrid,” he calls out. </p>
<p>Her head snaps up and she rubs her face, trying to push away her tiredness. “Oh, hi Sylvain.” She squints towards the rising sun. “What are you doing up so early?”</p>
<p>He grins and offers her a pastry. “Thought you might want some company.” He doesn’t qualify it with much more, but by the gratitude that sweeps through her expression he knows that she’s grateful. He doesn’t need her to say it. He just wants her to feel better. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” she says quietly, taking the offered food. “That would be nice.”</p>
<p>Her hair is gold in the light of the rising sun and Sylvain spends the whole day trying to make her smile and forget about the terrible no-good suitor from the day before. </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> vii. journey </em>
</p>
<p>“Ingrid,” Sylvain laughs, tugging at her arms. “I have to go.”</p>
<p>“No,” she whines, wriggling against him until she can wrap her arms more tightly around his middle again. </p>
<p>Sylvain sighs and rolls over in the bed to face her. He brushes aside a piece of her hair and kisses her forehead. “Ingrid,” he tries again. </p>
<p>Her face scrunches up. “Just go tomorrow.”</p>
<p>Sylvain laughs and kisses her eyebrow and then her nose. “Ingrid, love of my life, light of my days, I have already put off this trip for a week and a half because of you. My father will flay me alive.”</p>
<p>That gets her to open her eyes and she pouts. Sylvain immediately wants to kiss it away. “Can’t I just come with you?”</p>
<p>He shakes his head. “Felix will flay both of us if you skip out on him this time. I promise I’ll only be gone like three days. You won’t hardly notice that I’m gone.”</p>
<p>She huffs and burrows back into his chest, pushing him back until she can roll half on top of him. Her bare legs skim across his and Sylvain’s brain almost veers back into very dangerous territory that will make him so incredibly late. Ingrid presses her lips to the top of his shoulder and Sylvain realizes that this was absolutely an intentional move. </p>
<p>He groans. “Ingrid, come on.”</p>
<p>“No,” she repeats stubbornly. “You can journey north if you can get away from me.” Her arms tighten stubbornly again.</p>
<p>Sylvain huffs out a laugh. “Alright, alright. Five more minutes.” He kisses the top of her head. “But then I do have to leave.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> viii. artwork </em>
</p>
<p>Sylvain doesn’t think much of Ignatz’s sketch until he spots the braid cascading down the knight’s back. Then he doubles back, peering over the artist’s shoulder curiously. “Is that supposed to be Ingrid?”</p>
<p>Ignatz jumps and almost drops his pencil. “What?”</p>
<p>Sylvain nods to the sketch. “Is that Ingrid?”</p>
<p>Ignatz straightens his glasses and looks a bit flustered. He doesn’t close the sketchbook though which is a testament to how much he has grown since they were at the academy. “She posed for me last week,” he admits. “I don’t think it’s that good.”</p>
<p>Sylvain admires the sketch. It has definitely captured Ingrid’s likeness. Her cheekbones are sharp and her expression fierce. He can basically see her striking the pose and Ignatz has done a lovely job in drawing her. She looks beautiful. </p>
<p>“She looks lovely,” Sylvain compliments. </p>
<p>“Wow, Sylvain,” Hilda teases, walking up to them. “Why don’t you go say that to her face?” </p>
<p>Sylvain reels back. “What?” </p>
<p>Hilda’s grin is wicked. “Tell Ingrid’s she’s pretty. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it much more in person than a compliment on a sketch of her.”</p>
<p>His ears burn. “Hilda!”</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>ix. recovery</em>
</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” Sylvain argues. </p>
<p>Ingrid shoves him back into the seat, frowning. “You are not.” She taps his shoulder. “A minute ago you couldn’t see straight. What were you even looking at that you got that distracted? Usually, Felix doesn’t get you that good.” </p>
<p>Sylvain pouts. “He didn’t get me that good!”</p>
<p>Ingrid rolls her eyes and grabs his chin, leaning in and squinting as she tries to look at his pupils to make sure that they’re not super dilated or contracted. Sylvain stills in her touch, his eyes widening as she leans in and Ingrid doesn’t even notice how close they are until his breath catches. </p>
<p>Suddenly awkward, she jerks away, snapping her head to the side. “You might have a concussion,” she excuses immediately. “We need to wait here for Manuela to check you out and take care of it if you do.”</p>
<p>Sylvain’s hand reaches out, touching her wrist lightly but he doesn’t stand up from the chair. “If you really wanted to know, Ing, I was looking at you.”</p>
<p>Ingrid turns back to Sylvain, her mouth falling open and every word in every language she knows immediately fails her at the earnest look on his face. Thankfully, the Infirmary door opens and she is saved from having to reply as Manuela enters in a huff about being dragged away from a date. </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>x. dreams</em>
</p>
<p>Ingrid crumples up another piece of paper and drops it into the trash. She drops her pen back into the inkwell and lets out a long, irritated huff. Sylvain laughs behind her and she twists in his chair to look over her shoulder where he’s lying on his bed. His uniform jacket is tossed carelessly on the floor and the top button of his shirt is undone, but he’s just watching her, looking amused. </p>
<p>“Still struggling?” he asks. </p>
<p>She frowns at him. “Not everyone is as good with words as you are,” she argues. </p>
<p>He shrugs. “Just write him something nice about fulfilling his dreams. Offer him a position in House Galatea maybe.”</p>
<p>Ingrid presses her lips together. “Sylvain, we can’t afford to do that, as much as I care about Ashe.”</p>
<p>Sylvain wags his finger at her. “Right now, you can’t,” he corrects. “One day maybe you’ll be able to.”</p>
<p>Ingrid falls silent, staring at him. He sounds so sure. “How do you say things like that?” she asks. </p>
<p>Sylvain sits up and swings his feet off the bed. His shirt gapes a bit at the collar and Ingrid determinedly keeps her eyes on his face, not his exposed collarbone. “Because I believe in you,” he says simply. “If you dream it, I know you can make it happen.” </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>xi. swimming</em>
</p>
<p>“This is a horrible idea,” Ingrid grumbles, but she doesn’t stop unbuckling her armour. </p>
<p>Sylvain’s smile is wide and she already wants to slap it off his face. “Nah, it’ll be fine! We’re all going together, after all.”</p>
<p>She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t even like swimming, Sylvain. Besides, Claude said the ocean is cold this time of year.”</p>
<p>Sylvain waves a hand. “It’s fine.” He strips out of his shirt and Ingrid immediately turns her back on him, refusing to ogle his frustratingly attractive form. </p>
<p>“Easy for you to say,” she mutters. “You swim in the glacier lake in Gautier every winter for some godforsaken reason.” She shrugs out of her outer tunic, leaving her in a thin top and her riding pants. </p>
<p>Refusing to be embarrassed about stripping in front of her friend, she quickly sheds the rest of her clothes until she’s in her undergarments. Ignoring the way that Sylvain’s eyes linger on her, Ingrid shoves past him and marches into the cool ocean waves. Annette, further out in the ocean with some of the other Blue Lions, cheers. </p>
<p>Sylvain catches up with her before she gets too far. “I wouldn’t worry so much,” he says to her reassuringly. Under the water, his hand grazes the bare skin of her waist and she resists the urge to shiver. The water is cool, but it’s dark enough out that under the water their bodies are obscured. Sylvain’s smile is wolfish. “You make it look good.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> xii. music </em>
</p>
<p>“Dorothea, I’m not a very good singer,” Ingrid argues as her friend drags her into the cathedral. </p>
<p>“Nonsense! You’re here for choir practice and you’re going to be fine,” Dorothea says cheerfully. </p>
<p>“Couldn’t you have brought Hilda or Annette? They like to sing,” Ingrid argues. </p>
<p>Dorothea laughs. “Probably, but then I don’t get to see your reaction to that.” She points across the cathedral and Ingrid immediately stops walking. </p>
<p>Sylvain is standing with the professor, smiling as he sings and despite every ounce of her will ordering her not to stare, she stares. Even over the other singers, Ingrid can pick out the smooth tenor of Sylvain’s voice. She has never heard him sing. He’s irritatingly good at it. </p>
<p>Dorothea smirks at her. “Perfect. Goal fulfilled. You can leave now if you still want to.”</p>
<p>Ingrid stares at her. “You dragged me all the way to the cathedral not because you wanted me to actually come to choir practice but because you wanted me to hear Sylvain sing?” </p>
<p>Dorothea pats her shoulder. “Absolutely. He’s really good and now I’ve at least guaranteed that you’ll not be able to get his voice out of your head for several hours, possibly days.”</p>
<p>Ingrid frowns and immediately pivots, marching out of the cathedral. Much to her annoyance, Dorothea is right. She falls asleep thinking about Sylvain’s smooth singing voice that night and wakes up after dreaming of him all night. </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> xiii. dessert </em>
</p>
<p>“Ingrid!” Sylvain says, waving to her. </p>
<p>She shakes her head and bids Dorothea a quick goodbye, pushing through the crowd to reach him. She slides onto the bench next to him and Sylvain immediately pushes the plate in front of him over to her. Ingrid blinks at the sweet buns in front of her. </p>
<p>“What’s this?” she asks, feeling almost a bit suspicious. </p>
<p>Sylvain grins. “Sweet buns! Figured that we could share.”</p>
<p>Ingrid almost picks up one of the buns, but then she hesitates. “You know, I could have gotten my own,” she points out. </p>
<p>Sylvain’s smile wavers. He clearly hasn’t thought this through entirely. “I’m saving you time?” he tries. </p>
<p>Ingrid rolls her eyes. “If you wanted me to eat with you, you just had to ask, Sylvain. I would have said yes.”</p>
<p>He blinks and then sputters. “I wasn’t… This wasn’t…”</p>
<p>Ingrid leans over and kisses him on the cheek. Sylvain stares at her as she leans back and then finally picks up the delicious bun in front of her. Just before she takes her first bite, she looks back at Sylvain. </p>
<p>“If you wanted extra points, you would have gotten peach sorbet as well.” </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> xiv. hair brushing/styling </em>
</p>
<p>Ingrid knocks on his door entirely too early in the morning. Honestly, Sylvain is still half-asleep when he answers the door. He’s tired enough that he doesn’t even register his state of undress as he answers the door to greet her, running a hand through his hair. </p>
<p>Ingrid’s mouth drops open when she sees him and Sylvain looks down, realizing belatedly that–<em> oh yeah </em>–he’s not actually wearing a shirt right now. He shrugs, owning it, and steps back into his room, leaving the door open as an unspoken invitation. </p>
<p>Ingrid narrows her eyes, but she does follow him into his room. Sylvain yawns and positions himself in front of his mirror, setting about arranging his hair into something more appropriate for the day’s activities. Ingrid, his absolute angel, tosses the blanket up on his bed to make it and then sits down. She crosses his arms and watches him from across the room. </p>
<p>Sylvain turns to her and grins. “Like what you see?”</p>
<p>She scowls and stands up, marching over to him. Sylvain recoils, not expecting her to get so close, and Ingrid just leans up on her tiptoes, reaching around to brush at something on the back of his head. As soon as she finishes that, she leans away and folds her arms. </p>
<p>It’s cute. </p>
<p>“Your hair was sticking up at the back,” she grumbles. </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>xv. fancy party</em>
</p>
<p>“For someone who just won the White Heron Cup, you look awfully dejected and alone on the edge of the dancefloor,” Sylvain says teasingly as he strides up to Ingrid. </p>
<p>She startles, her head snapping to him. Ingrid shuffles her feet and brushes back a piece of her hair. Sylvain offers her the small plate he’s carrying and a relieved look spreads across her face as she accepts it and immediately bites into one of the small fish tarts. He takes a second to appreciate how she looks tonight. </p>
<p>She’s wearing her dress uniform, but he’s pretty sure that Mercedes and Annette have worked their magic since there’s a faint glitter on her eyelids and a sheen on her lips. Plus, her hair is done up in a series of elegant wrap-around braids that Ingrid–practical, lovely Ingrid–would never do for herself. </p>
<p>“Thanks, Sylvain,” she mumbles through bites of appetizers. </p>
<p>He hums. “You look beautiful.”</p>
<p>She makes a face at the compliment. “Please don’t.”</p>
<p>“Don’t what?”</p>
<p>“Lay it on because I won the competition. I’m not one of your girls.”</p>
<p>He chuckles and reaches out, grabbing her hand and tugging her lightly to the dancefloor. “I promise I’m not. I just think you’re pretty amazing.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> xvi. gift-giving  </em>
</p>
<p>Ingrid folds her arms and gives him an annoyed look. “Sylvain, I am asking you to be serious here. I won’t have a lot of time to get you anything so I need you to seriously tell me what you want for your birthday.”</p>
<p>He bats his eyes at her, trying intentionally to be annoying, and wraps his arms around her waist again, attempting to pull her back down into his bed. “But, Ingrid, the only thing I want is you.”</p>
<p>Ingrid huffs, wriggling until she gets a hand free. She runs her fingers through his hair and Sylvain closes his eyes, leaning into the soft touch. </p>
<p>“Idiot,” she mutters. “You already have me.”</p>
<p>He hums happily. “Good. You’re the best gift I could have ever asked for.”</p>
<p>Ingrid groans. “Stop it. There is a line and you’ve crossed it.”</p>
<p>“I love you,” he sings gleefully. “I love you, Ingrid Brandl Galatea, and you’re the best birthday gift I could ever ask for in the history of ever.”</p>
<p>She flicks him in the forehead. </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> xvii. horseback riding </em>
</p>
<p>“Equestrian training?” Sylvain groans, leaning forward so his forehead rests against the neck of his trusted steed. “I already know more than enough about horses!”</p>
<p>Ingrid laughs at him from where she’s sitting on the edge of a box. She’s flipping through a book and looks entirely like she’s not paying him any attention at all. Sylvain straightens up and pouts at her. </p>
<p>“Aren’t you supposed to be helping me?”</p>
<p>“You said it yourself,” she teases. “You know more than enough about horses.”</p>
<p>Sylvain backpedals. “Ingrid, oh Ingrid, I desperately need your help for I have a certification exam in two days and I know absolutely nothing about horses!”</p>
<p>She hums, feigning disinterest. “Maybe you should ask Marianne. She’s good with horses.”</p>
<p>Sylvain groans and rests his head against his horse again. Blueberry huffs and stamps his feet, displeased that Sylvain isn’t giving him enough attention. He pats the horse reassuringly and Blueberry settles down. An idea sparks in Sylvain’s brain. </p>
<p>“So you’re saying I should take Marianne on long romantic horseback rides?”</p>
<p>Ingrid’s head snaps up and her face turns bright red. “What?”</p>
<p>He grins. “I was planning on turning this into a very long, very romantic date but if you think I should ask Marianne, I guess I can.” Ingrid’s mouth opens and closes and Sylvain laughs. “Still don’t want to help me?”</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> xviii. bed-sharing  </em>
</p>
<p>Sylvain lies down on the bed without thinking. He sprawls across it lengthwise and lets out a long groan. “I am so sore,” he whines. </p>
<p>Ingrid doesn’t reply immediately so he rolls onto his back and props himself up on his side, looking at her. She’s staring at the bed in the room like it’s going to bite her, frowning. </p>
<p>“There’s only one bed,” she says blankly. </p>
<p>Sylvain comes to that realization much slower than her. “Oh,” he says dumbly. He jumps up as if the bed has burned him, scratching at the back of his head. “I’m sure it’s just a mistake on the innkeeper’s part. We can go get a room with two beds or we can rent a second room.”</p>
<p>Ingrid sighs and leans her lance against the wall by the door. She shakes her head. “Sylvain, do you really think a place like this is going to be able to accommodate that request?”</p>
<p>She’s right. This town is poor and the inn is small and they are trying to preserve the army’s funds wherever possible. </p>
<p>“We can just share,” she mutters. She points at him. “But no funny business.”</p>
<p>Sylvain hadn’t even been considering it until she brought it up, but now he can’t get the thought of pulling Ingrid into his chest while they both sleep out of his head. He nods frantically and hopes that his subconscious won’t actually act on that thought. “Of course not.”</p>
<p>Naturally, the next morning, Ingrid is half on top of Sylvain and his arms are wound around her and her hair is in his mouth. </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> xix. practice/preparations </em>
</p>
<p>“I do not get how <em>he </em>is helping,” Ingrid snaps, pointing at where Sylvain is reclining against the wall. </p>
<p>He blinks, looking caught out by the accusatory comment. </p>
<p>Dorothea holds up her hands. “I’m not Faerghan,” she reminds. “You told me that you wanted the dance to reflect your culture.” She waves at Sylvain. “That’s what he’s here for.” </p>
<p>Ingrid sighs and buries her face in her hands. “I know!” she grumbles. She peeks out of her hands to see that Sylvain has stood up and is walking towards her. </p>
<p>“Hey, Ingrid,” he says, “if you really want me to leave, I can.”</p>
<p>She sighs and drops her hands. “No, it’s fine. I do value your input, Sylvain.”</p>
<p>The smile he gives her is entirely too charming and pretty. “Great! Then you can practice with me.” </p>
<p>He steps closer to her and takes both of her hands, lifting them up and placing them on his shoulders. Ingrid tenses and shoots a helpless look to Dorothea who just hums and taps a finger against her lips, considering the situation. </p>
<p>“How is this helping?” Ingrid stammers. </p>
<p>Dorothea shrugs. “It’ll help your coordination,” she lies, her smile turning wicked. </p>
<p>Ingrid glares, but Sylvain leads her into a step of the dance before she can shoot back a real reply. </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>xx. secret</em>
</p>
<p>Ingrid stares at Sylvain. “Why are you being weird?”</p>
<p>His eyebrows shoot up and he looks even more guilty than he already did. “What?” His voice pitches up and Ingrid sighs. Sylvain is normally a very good liar. She has no idea why he’s lying–and lying badly–to her today. </p>
<p>“What,” she demands, “is in the dresser, Sylvain?”</p>
<p>“Nothing!”</p>
<p>Ingrid huffs and walks forward, easily pushing him aside. He could have put up much more of a fight, but he doesn’t and that only makes her more suspicious. She opens the first drawer and sees only a stoppered ink well, a few sheets of parchment and an old, beautiful signet ring. She closes the drawer and moves onto the next drawer. This one just has a stack of letters, some of which have her writing on them.</p>
<p>She freezes and slams the second drawer, ripping the first back open. With a shaking hand, she picks up the signet ring, turning it over in her hand. As she had belatedly realized, this is a Gautier signet ring that Ingrid has only ever seen worn by Sylvain’s mother. </p>
<p>Brandishing the ring, she turns back to Sylvain, her eyes wide. “What is this?”</p>
<p>He smiles. </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> xxi. chores </em>
</p>
<p>Ingrid is not sure how they ended up here. She had just been trying to do the job they’d been assigned by the professor. They had been pulling weeds and reorganizing seeds and gardening supplies in the greenhouse and working together quite seamlessly, as she and Sylvain have been known to recently. </p>
<p>Somehow, Sylvain’s hand had ghosted along her back and then over hers where they were working and then she had dropped all of her supplies to grab his collar and yank him to her. Of course, because Sylvain is Sylvain, he had had no complaints with this development as he had let Ingrid back him into the wall of the greenhouse and kiss him silly. </p>
<p>She knows that this is a stupid place for them to be doing this, but Sylvain’s lips are warm and he tastes like the tea cakes they had shared with Annette before they had started their chores. Plus, Sylvain has let her undo the top three buttons on his shirt and he’s managed to get her own shirt untucked in return. </p>
<p>One of his hands is in her hair and Ingrid cups his face, pressing their lips together even more firmly. Sylvain laughs into the kiss and just tugs her closer. </p>
<p>“You know,” he says between kisses, “this is entirely your fault.”</p>
<p>“Shut up,” Ingrid grumbles and presses her lips to the side of his neck. </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> xxii. reminiscing </em>
</p>
<p>“What are you thinking of?” Sylvain asks, looking up at her curiously. </p>
<p>Ingrid blinks. She hadn’t even realized that she had been spacing out, but her hand has stopped brushing through Sylvain’s hair which is why he must have noticed. He’s currently sprawled out on the grass of the courtyard with his head nestled in her lap. Before her mind had wandered, Ingrid had been playing with his hair. </p>
<p>She curls a lock of it around her finger idly. “Just stuff,” she says. </p>
<p>He hums and his eyes close again. “I was thinking about you,” he says. “You and Felix and how you used to pull each other’s hair all the time when we were kids.”</p>
<p>Ingrid tugs lightly on his hair. “Careful with the hair-pulling talk.”</p>
<p>Sylvain chuckles. “Well, really, he would pull your hair and then you would pull his and he would cry and then we’d all get in trouble for making Felix cry.”</p>
<p>“I was not the only one who made Felix cry!” she defends. </p>
<p>Sylvain cracks open one eye as a playful smile creeps up on his lips. He reaches up and detangles her hand from his hair and pulls it over his mouth where he kisses the back of it. Ingrid’s heart flutters. She and Sylvain have been doing this <em>thing </em>between them for a while, but he’s still more than capable of making her heart flutter with every romantic notion. </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> xxiii. promises  </em>
</p>
<p>Sylvain is about to blow his lantern out and go to sleep when there’s a knock on his door. He’s tempted to pretend like he’s already asleep because he’s already had a super long day, but then he hears the gentle voice on the other side of the door. </p>
<p>“Sylvain?”</p>
<p>He springs up to his feet and basically tears his door open. Ingrid stands in front of his room, looking exhausted. She’s wearing an old shirt that looks kind of familiar and leggings. Her hair is down around her face and she’s biting her lip like he’s nervous. </p>
<p>“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, stepping towards her. </p>
<p>Ingrid nods slowly. “I’m okay, I just couldn’t stop thinking about today.”</p>
<p>There had been a close call on the battlefield today. Sylvain doesn’t need to relive that memory. He reaches out and pulls Ingrid into a tight hug. She burrows into his chest and he rests his chin atop her head. </p>
<p>“I’m okay, Ingrid,” he murmurs quietly. </p>
<p>Her fingers curl into the material of his shirt. “Promise me you’ll stay that way,” she practically begs. </p>
<p>“Always,” he says immediately. Possessed by some kind of strange instinct, Sylvain tilts his head and presses a kiss to the top of her head. </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> xiv. diary/letters </em>
</p>
<p>“Here,” Felix says, hurling the stack of letters towards Sylvain. </p>
<p>Sylvain fumbles them and almost drops them. He quickly flips through them, skimming past two letters from his mother until he finds the one that he’s interested in. He tugs it free of the string tying the rest of the letters together and practically tears the envelope to get it open. He slides the paper free and then realizes that Felix is staring at him, arms crossed. </p>
<p>“Can I help you?” he asks his friend. </p>
<p>Felix lifts an eyebrow. “You have three back-dated letters from your mother and you went straight for Ingrid’s letter,” he points out. </p>
<p>Sylvain frowns. “So? I’ll read the rest of them later.”</p>
<p>Felix scoffs. “If you’re so eager to hear from Ingrid, you should have come to Fraldarius last month.”</p>
<p>Sylvain sighs. “You know I would have been there if I could.” </p>
<p>His father had had him busy up on the northern border so he had just missed Ingrid when she had visited Fraldarius. Felix had had more than one letter addressed to him after that week. Sylvain wasn’t going to admit that he had Ingrid’s letters saved in the top right drawer of his desk. That would just prove the unspoken point that Felix was trying to make. </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>xxv. dancing</em>
</p>
<p>Sylvain is moving across the ballroom towards her before she even gets to the edge of the dancefloor. He swoops in, catching her arm as she trips, and he rights her on her feet. She flashes him a grateful look and he takes the weight that she leans on him as she hops along, moving out of the way of people as the next dance picks up. </p>
<p>When they reach the wall of the ballroom, Ingrid lets out a long huff and bends down, jerking off the broken shoe. She holds it up, glaring at the broken heel with disdain. Sylvain laughs. </p>
<p>“For someone who danced her way to victory back at the academy, you’re pretty hard on your shoes.”</p>
<p>She rolls her eyes. “These are cheaply made,” she confesses. “I wasn’t planning on wearing heels at all tonight, but Mercedes and Annette insisted and they were all I could find on short notice.”</p>
<p>“I’m just kidding,” Sylvain assures. He glances down at her feet, one now bare. “Guess this means I won’t be able to sweep you off your feet on the dancefloor tonight.”</p>
<p>She blinks at him. “I mean, I might appreciate being swept off my feet literally right now. I feel like I’m about to fall over.”</p>
<p>Sylvain grins and Ingrid immediately tries to backpedal, but he just laughs over her sputtering as he drops down, hooking one arm under her knees and pulling her up into his arms. The squeak she lets out and the action draws more than a few pairs of eyes their way and Ingrid slaps his shoulder and covers her face, embarrassed. Sylvain just grins and pulls her closer. </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> xvi. clothing </em>
</p>
<p>Sylvain whistles lowly. He sees Ingrid tense and she spins back around to face him, her cheeks flushing. He pushes himself up into a sitting position in the bed and gives her a lazy smile. </p>
<p>“I didn’t know I was being given a gift so early in the morning,” He teases.</p>
<p>Ingrid crosses her arms. “I didn’t know you were awake.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t,” he admits. “Not until a few minutes ago when this really warm thing I was cuddling with found the need to leave me alone in the bed.”</p>
<p>She bites her lip like she’s trying to stop herself from smiling. “We have to get on with the day, Sylvain,” she mumbles. </p>
<p>He raises an eyebrow. “So you’re telling me that you woke up and not only did you leave me alone in bed, but you put on my shirt–and just my shirt, I might add–and now you expect me to be okay with you saying we need to get up and do things today?”</p>
<p>He slides out of bed and crosses the floor towards her. Ingrid’s eyes trail downwards unintentionally and then snap back up when he stops in front of her. He hums and rubs his hands down her sides as he leans in and presses a light kiss to the hinge of her jaw. </p>
<p>“We’re going back to bed for a bit,” he whispers. </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> xvii. in nature </em>
</p>
<p>Sylvain pats the neck of his horse as he watches Ingrid sit at the edge of the river bank. She fluffs up her short blonde hair, huffing and fanning herself. He chuckles and carefully hooks the horse’s lead over a branch on the tree before he wanders over and sits next to her on the bank. </p>
<p>Without saying anything, he starts unlacing his boots. He pulls them off, with his socks, and drops them off to the side. He extends his feet out into the water and submerges them in the cold river. Ingrid’s mouth opens and closes as she watches him. </p>
<p>He grins. “Join me?”</p>
<p>Ingrid frowns. “It’ll make us late.”</p>
<p>He shrugs. “It’s hot. Shouldn’t we enjoy this while we can? The water’s nice.”</p>
<p>He bends and flicks a spray of cool water at her. Ingrid yelps and leans back, almost lying on her back. </p>
<p>“Sylvain!”</p>
<p>He laughs. </p>
<p>Ingrid’s expression flattens and then she sits back upright and shoves him hard enough that he pitches completely into the river. Sylvain gets a face full of cold river water and he pushes himself up so that he’s sitting on his butt in the middle of the river. He gapes at Ingrid. </p>
<p>“What’s this about it’ll make us late?”</p>
<p>She just smiles. </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> xxviii. tears </em>
</p>
<p>A small glance at Sylvain’s face tells her more than enough and she smiles to herself. She tightens her grip on his hand and leans her head against his shoulder, silently reassuring him of her presence. Sylvain’s grip tightens in return and his thumb rubs across the top of her hand. </p>
<p>“I won’t say anything,” she mumbles, her voice barely audible. Of course, she definitely can’t say anything because her own eyes have been misty for the last several minutes. </p>
<p>Sylvain makes a half-sniffing, half-laughing noise and twists his head, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “It’s a big day,” he whispers. Quickly, and before almost anyone else sees, his other hand comes up and wipes his eyes, brushing back the proud tears that he had been holding back. </p>
<p>Ingrid hums quietly in agreement. She adjusts her head on Sylvain’s shoulder and returns her attention to the ceremony unfolding at the front of the cathedral. This day has been a long time coming for more than just Dimitri who kneels on the altar in front of Byleth. They’ve all been waiting for this moment and to finally see it come to fruition is a lovely feeling. </p>
<p>It makes Sylvain’s hand in hers even warmer. And if Ingrid sheds a few tears during the ceremony, Sylvain certainly isn’t going to tell on her. </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> xxix. books/stories </em>
</p>
<p>Ingrid goes up on her tiptoes, reaching desperately for the book above her head. She manages to get it to wiggle out another inch and then she stumbles back onto her heel, almost rocking back further, but an arm comes out of nowhere to steady her. </p>
<p>“Woah!” Sylvain exclaims, balancing her back on her feet properly. He looks between her and the book she’s managed to wiggle three inches out of place. He reaches up and plucks it out effortlessly, pulling it down and handing it to her. A smirk toys at the corner of his mouth. “You could have just asked for help, Ingrid.”</p>
<p>She wraps her arms around the book and purses her lips. Not that she would ever admit it, but Ingrid had been trying to avoid doing exactly that. Because, besides her and Sylvain, the only other person in the library is Ashe and asking for help feels like defeat. Not to mention that Ashe has now left and she and Sylvain are alone in the library. </p>
<p>Ingrid remembers very clearly what had happened last time she and Sylvain were left alone in the library. </p>
<p>She turns away from him, clutching her book and brushes a piece of hair back. “Thank you, Sylvain,” she says, instead of something else. </p>
<p>He steps around her, putting himself in front of her. “Hey, Ingrid, what’s going on?”</p>
<p>She takes a deep breath and looks up at him. He looks just as charming and handsome as he did last time and last time she had ended up sheepishly knocking on Dorothea’s door asking for help covering red and purple marks on her neck. </p>
<p>She pokes him in the chest. “It’s not happening again.”</p>
<p>His surprise fades to smugness and his eyes drop to her lips. “Oh? Really?” </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> xxx. wedding  </em>
</p>
<p>“My feet are killing me,” Ingrid mutters, recrossing her feet at the ankles. Of course, under the beautiful dress she’s wearing, no one can see the movement. </p>
<p>Sylvain chuckles and his thumb strokes the lace of her sleeve caps where his arm is draped across her shoulder. “Does this mean I have permission to officially sweep you off your feet when we finally get out of here?”</p>
<p>Ingrid rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t outright deny him the chance. She’s sure that Sylvain thinks it would be romantic to carry her across the threshold of the bedroom that’s now theirs. But, with the way that he keeps touching her–featherlight and just enough to make her want more–she can only hope that her patience lasts until the end of the evening. </p>
<p>After all, it’s bad form for them to vanish from their own wedding. </p>
<p>Ingrid leans into Sylvain a little more and she sees his smile widen. “I love you,” she murmurs. </p>
<p>He hums, agreeing and tilts his head down, leaning forward so that he can kiss her gently. Ingrid leans into the kiss, even as Sylvain pulls back, and he chuckles. </p>
<p>“I love you too,” he whispers. </p>
<p>Someone nearby that sounds suspiciously like Raphael, lets out a loud whoop as they lean back into their own seats. Ingrid blushes, but she drops her hand to Sylvain’s thigh under the table, pressing the pads of her fingers in just enough that he looks down, his eyes widening. </p>
<p>“We might have to make that carried escape sooner rather than later,” she mumbles under her breath. </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> xxxi. future </em>
</p>
<p>Ingrid is staring out the open window, holding a cup of tea between her palms when she hears Sylvain approach. She doesn’t turn around to face him and he winds his arms around her waist, leaning forward until he presses a light kiss against the top of her exposed shoulder. Ingrid lets her eyes close as she tilts her head to the side, leaving him a bit more skin to caress. </p>
<p>Sylvain is never one to ignore an invitation and he trails slow, thoughtful kisses up until he kisses right beneath her ear and then he pulls away. “Good morning,” he greets, his voice a low rumble in his chest. </p>
<p>Ingrid smiles faintly. “Good morning.” She drops one hand to her stomach to pat his hands where they’re joined to keep her wrapped up in his arms. “Sleep okay?”</p>
<p>“Mmm, okay,” he agrees. “Would have been better if I hadn’t woken up alone.”</p>
<p>She scoffs. “Sylvain, I’ve been getting up before you literally every morning we’ve ever shared a bed.”</p>
<p>He chuckles and kisses her temple fondly. “Sure, but that was every day in the past. This is every day in our future, Ing.”</p>
<p><em> Our future</em>. She likes the sound of that. </p>
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